


There is no me without you

by khenq



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Genre will vary, If they're required, M/M, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khenq/pseuds/khenq
Summary: Basically, here I'll pile any batjokes requests I have completed. As I mentioned in the tags, genre will vary, as well as the universes.





	1. From Bats and Clowns

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by the wonderful @babybatjokes on tumblr, "How much did someone pay you to dress like that?" from a prompt list by @happylilprompts.

The clown was laughing. Of course, he was always laughing. The problem was, he usually wasn't laughing at Batman. No, wait, that's a lie. He laughed at him most days. Every day. But not at his costume. Actually, he did but–okay, so maybe there were more similarities than differences. But still! Bruce could be cut a bit of slack. For one, he really hated to be mocked. For two, bats were awesome, no matter what the Joker thought. And why was he allowed to judge anyway? His clothes were so bright they should come with a warning.

It has been five minutes. Five minutes since Bruce had showed up to foil yet another of the notorious criminal's plans, five minutes of the clown doing nothing but cackle. Bruce hoped there were no bombs, or Gotham might find itself in some serious trouble. Another thing he hoped for, was for Joker to pass out from lack of air, but nobody needed to know about that particular wish of his. It was nobody's business.

A few minutes later, the clown finally seemed to be calming down, and the vigilante prepared himself for their usual dance. Alas, it wasn't to be.

The Joker, who due to his amusement had ended up curled up on the ground, was slowly sitting up, giggles still passing through his lips, and asked gleefully:

“How much,  _ ha-ha,  _ how much did someone pay you to wear  _ that _ ?”

Bruce's scowl deepened, something which he thought impossible at this point. Then again, his counterpart had always had a tendency to push him to his extremes in more ways than one.

“I mean, I get it, you're, you're an eccentric young man with a bat fetish, but this is a bit much, don't you think?” continued the clown prince.

The other man growled menacingly, instead of answering. It was  _ his  _ fault that he had to wear this in the first place.

“The ears are like, over  _ 30 inches  _ long. Are you trying to break some kind of record, for ‘longest bat ears’, or maybe 'how big can the bat ears become, before they become a hindrance when fighting?”

The millionaire was on the verge of giving up his one rule and just strangling the other, or something else. He tried not to look too hard into his second solution.

“Darling, the first step to solving your issues is for you to admit that you have a problem,” with mocking sweetness stated the Joker, having noted the burning glare still directed at himself. “We can work up from there. I know all the Arkham doctors, I can tell you which ones aren't–”

_ “Shut up.” _

The criminal grinned even wider as he heard the annoyance in his Batsy’s voice. There was no better sound, in his mind. Then again, he thought that everything the Bat did was as good as it could get.

_ “Make me.” _

And that was it. Bruce has had enough with the damn clown, and his laughter, and his smooth face, and his soft looking hair.

Just as the Joker prepared to continue his mental assault, he found his mouth otherwise occupied. His eyes widened, both in disbelief and elation, at the feeling of _the Batman's_ _lips_ _pressing against his own, and a tongue begging for entrance, and a hand cradling his face._ His eyes fluttered shut, and he focused solely on the soft lips pressing against his, letting out a soft moan as the other man nipped at his lips.

This night was turning out to be much more exhilarating than either of them expected. 


	2. Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Is your name Bob? You look like a Bob", requested by @melamungous on Tumblr, from a prompt list by @happylilprompts.

“Francis.”

To say Bruce was annoyed would be an understatement. The nuisance, also known as the Joker and the bane of the vigilante's existence, has been trying, unsuccessfully to figure out his counterpart's name. He had been at it for over five minutes now, and, sadly, there was plenty of time before they reached Arkham.

No to mention that the criminal's guesses were getting increasingly more absurd. Well, absurd for a citizen of Gotham at least, according to the madman himself.

“Aaron, Erik, Adam, George, William, Evelin–”

“I'm sorry, did you just say Evelin, or did I hallucinate that?” interrupted Bruce incredulously, speaking up for the first time since they got in the car. Somehow he felt like he had lost that battle, after all.

The clown simply shrugged in response. “I won't judge Batsy, you know I don't have much respect for the ridiculous standards society sets.”

Bruce stared at him for a second longer, before turning his eyes back on the road. They stood for a while in comfortable silence, but just as the millionaire thought the subject was finally dropped, the Joker started talking again.

“John. Daniel. Bob–”

The criminal cut himself off as he noticed the slight twitch of Batman's body at the mention of the last name. “So is it Bob? You look like a Bob. Kind of.”

The vigilante managed just barely not to snort out loud. Just the thought of it, Bob, the Dark Knight of Gotham, protector of the city. “Do you even  _ know _ anyone named Bob?”

“No, of course not. Too ordinary for this hellhole,” retorted the Joker, sounding almost offended at the suggestion that he might be in some way connected to someone as bland as a man named Bob.

“Then how can you say that I look like a.Bob, if you've never known one?” asked Bruce, trying to find the madman's logic.

“Well, I've never seen a Bob. Nor someone that  _ never  _ smiles. I figured these two might be connected,” explained the clown with an exaggeratedly knowledgeable voice, and the vigilante had to stifle the urge to laugh once again.

“You realise that this is impossible, correct?” he stated, valiantly keeping the amusement out of his voice. No need for the criminal to know that 'his Batsy’ actually found him funny sometimes.

His counterpart just turned to look at him, as if assessing the justice fighter, wide grin firmly in place as always. “Oh really? Well, apparently you're the exception.”

“I do smile, Joker.” At this point, Bruce was unsure as to why he kept the conversation going. Or rather, he did, but prefered not go look at the reason too closely.

The Joker pouted, an expression which surprisingly worked for the homicidal clown, making him look almost ador–No. Not that, this word  _ cannot  _ be applied to the criminal, and Batman  _ didn't  _ think that of the green-haired menace. No way.

His internal process of denial was interrupted by the Joker's speaking up once more.

“Then prove it. Smile,” demanded the escape master. “Think of something… nice. Or funny, though I doubt you know what  _ that  _ is.”

And for some reason, Bruce did as he was told. Maybe it was because it was a far more manageable request than what the clown usually asked for, or maybe it was the hint of actual desire, need, to see him smile. And his thoughts turned to the man beside him, with his green, soft looking hair, his obnoxiously bright clothing, his sappy pick-up lines… And he smiled.

The Joker appeared stunned, as if surprised, shocked that this was actually happening, the look soon melting into one of awe and something Bruce couldn't name.

They spend the rest of the ride in silence, as companionable as the one before, if somehow different. Changed.

As they reached the gates, before the Joker got out of the car to be led inside by the guards, he leaned against the vigilante, mouth right next to his ear and whispered:

“Thank you, Bruce,” and then calmly climbed out of the car, back to his flamboyant persona, leaving the vigilante stupefied, and yes, maybe just a bit impatient for their next encounter and what it might bring.


	3. Ridiculous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by a friend of mine, "Where are your pants?" from a prompt list by @happylilprompts.

“Bruce. Where are your pants?” Joker asked, a genuinely amused smile on his face.

Of course, the vigilante just glared at the clown, who at this point was doing his best to not start flat out laughing. Then again, if he did, who would blame him? At the sight of Batman, protector of Gotham city, dressed in full Bat regalia, save for that one missing piece. Even the least humourless person on Earth would crack a smile.

“You have so many costumes, are you seriously telling me you can't find a pair?” continued the clown, disregarding the glowering of his partner. “What the hell do you do with them?”

“I'm pretty sure that I can blame  _ you  _ about the reason why I can't wear most of them,” retorted the vigilante dryly, still rooting around the closet in hopes of finding something, _ anything _ to wear.

“Now, darling, don't be like that.” Bruce could almost see the criminal raising his hands in a placating manner. “You and I both know you enjoyed what happened afterwards.” With that, the trickster burst out giggling, causing the billionaire to grit his teeth in annoyance. Why did he agree to a relationship with that nuisance again?

“You should try fighting crime pantless,” continued the jester relentlessly. “People would either laugh too hard to do anything to defend themselves, or drool so much they'd forget what they were doing beforehand.”

“Oh, and which one would you be?” asked Bruce sarcastically.

“Both, of course,” responded the other without hesitation. “Multitasking is a good way to achieve all you want to accomplish.”

The vigilante let out a groan. This was turning out to be a really long night.


	4. Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "You look like an open autopsy" from a prompt list by @happylilprompts.

The room was silent, save for the sounds of quiet, if fast, breathing, and the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, other noises would join in, such as soft muttering, or even muffled giggling.

“You look like an open autopsy,” a voice commented, interrupting the set ‘rhythm’.

The Joker looked up from his stitch-work to gaze at the bat-dressed man that had suddenly appeared at the doorway, wide smile immediately creeping up on his face. “Why, darling, you always say the nicest things! A real charmer, you are,” stated the clown, sounding nothing if not sincere.

The Bat was still observing the bloodied figure of his nemesis, numerous fresh stitches adorning his flesh. “I never took you for someone who would know how to sew,” remarked the vigilante.

The other’s grin widened even more, before grabbing the needle and thread again, continuing his arduous work. “Well, I'm full of surprises, Batsy. Everybody needs a hobby, otherwise they'd go absolutely _mad_ ,” he retorted with a cackle.

Batman's eyes narrowed, but instead of responding, he simply slowly made his way into the room, moving closer to the notorious criminal. He stopped when he was right in front of him, barely any distance separating them. The clown didn't acknowledge him, instead choosing to finish wrapping up his wounds, which meant, his entire abdominal area.

The vigilante would have offered to help, _wanted_ to, but he knew his counterpart wouldn't appreciate the offer, even if it were to spare him more pain. As it were, they just stood in silence until the Joker was done. The criminal started buttoning up his shirt, taking his time. Finally, he lifted up his head, meeting the eyes of the man in front of him.

“How did this happen?” he asked. “You were in Arkham until two hours ago.”

The Joker laughed, waving his arm in a dismissive gesture. “Come on Brucie, you're smarter than that. Don't ask stupid questions.”

When the millionaire said nothing, the other let out a vaguely annoyed sigh, and took his due to elaborate. “Experimentation. The usual. 'How much can a body take before it stops functioning properly’.” More giggling. “One would think that they're taught that at school, but clearly knowledge isn't a requirement that one needs to fulfill to become a doctor at Arkham. In fact, I'm reasonably certain the only necessary trait one needs to possess is sadistic nature.” The clown tilted his head as if in deep thought. “I'd make an excellent doctor.”

It was Bruce's turn to sigh. He slowly sat down next to the bloodied criminal, their sides nearly pressing against each other. Almost immediately, skinny arms wrapped themselves around him, a green haired head burying into his neck, nuzzling against him. The vigilante responded in kind, a hand finding it's way on the other's waist, the other gently tugging at green curls. They stood like that for what felt like years, but was in reality less than even half an hour, the purple-clad man purring softly, the two archetypes content in each other's arms.

Bruce's eyes fluttered shut, as he pressed the clown closer against himself, as if afraid that if he let go for even a second the other might disappear.

“What are we doing?” he asked wearily.

The Joker hummed.

What indeed. This was wrong. Their relationship. Neither cared about that, not anymore. And yet, both were afraid. Of all those feelings they claimed they didn't feel. Of changing. Of the additional consequences their actions now carried. Of who, _what_ they were becoming.

“Whatever you decide darling,” said the clown, voice muffled into the other’s neck.

Bruce could end this. He could, and the other would let him. Because he wanted what was best for him. And wasn't that a funny thought.

They spend the rest of the night on a stringy bed, in a long abandoned hotel, clutching each other like a life line.


	5. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "That's French for 'go away'" from a prompt list by @happylilprompts.

“Bruce. Is there any way, and I do mean any way at all, to get you to leave?” you ask, anger evident in your voice. There's amusement as well, but then again, it wouldn't _be_ you, if you didn't find the situation at least a little bit funny.

He looks at you, and you already know what his answer will be:

“No.”

Ha. It _was_ funny. Very much so, in fact. It was usually you that wouldn't leave _him_ alone, and would annoy and pester him. Oh, how the tables have turned.

You preferred it when it was the other way around.

“I said that I don't want you here. Did you not hear me? Or maybe you just need to clean your bat ears more often,” you goad him, hoping he would either display his usual kindness to those in pain and leave, or that he'd hit you until you're unconscious. Then it wouldn't matter if he's actually with you or not.

He says nothing, simply looking at you. He has this expression on his face, but you can't tell what it is. You don't really care, not right now.

“Did you forget how English works? Shall I try another language?”

Nothing. You wonder how can anyone be this bad at communication, or at reading people. He was a goddamn detective, for crying out loud.

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Allez-vous-en. That's French for 'go away’, by the way.” You almost laugh at the irony. 'The language of love’ indeed.

He stares at you, as if he sees exactly what you're doing. Maybe he does. Today, at least. You could never tell when his willful ignorance might strike.

“I'm not leaving,” he says. _Christ._ You wish he'd listen to you for once. It's not as if you asked him to kill anyone.

“You know we can't.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” you question, nor expecting _, or wanting,_ an answer.

He sits next you, and you don't move away. You stay still as he wraps his arms around you. You don't do anything when he practically pulls you into his lap, nor when he starts stroking your hair.

You should though. You should move away. Away from him. People weren't kidding when they said love hurt. You don't want that pain. But you still don't pull away. You _can't._

Sometimes you wish you didn't feel anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This request has been sitting in my asks for awhile, because apparently now I'm stuck writing sadness and pain, and it was incredibly hard to put that sentence in an angsty fic.


	6. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the amazing @mayas525 on tumblr, "Please don't be mad at me" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

“Please don't be mad at me.”

That was the first thing the homicidal maniac said to him as Bruce found him on the rooftop, drenched from the pouring rain. He wasn't smiling, and shivers were wracking his body, but the vigilante couldn't find it in himself to care. Not this time.

Batman slung at him, catching his cheekbone, a move swiftly followed by a kick at the stomach. The Joker fell on the ground gracelessly, not laughing for once. Bruce wasn't sure if the clown had finally realised that laughing makes his actions seem so much worse, or if he's just pretending for Bruce's 'benefit’. Either way, it angered him even more. He had planted explosives in a school. And the vigilante wasn't fast enough. Good enough.

He grabbed Joker by the lapels of his coat and dragged him up until their faces were inches apart, lips almost pressing together.

The criminal still wasn't smiling.

Batman growled. “I'm sending you back to Arkham, and this time, i'll make sure you  _ stay there _ .”

At this, the murderer finally did laugh, loud and unhinged, going completely limp into Bruce's grip. He brought one of his hands up to cover his mouth, as if trying to stifle his giggles. “Come on now, we both know that's not true. You  _ like _ me far too much. And besides, you are the one who made me who I am. Please don't be mad at me. Please don't be mad at me, please don't be mad at me, please don't be mad at–”

Bruce dropped him, as if burned. The lunatic slid down on the roof

clothes practically dripping with water. He started crawling in the vigilante's direction, still repeating “Please don't be mad at me” over and over and over. With every move closer, the words became more and more unrecognisable as the laughter became louder with every step back his mirror image took.

And then Bruce was falling, and there was screaming–

Wayne woke with a start, a scream stuck in his throat, breathing rapidly. He looked around in panic. He was in his bedroom.

It was all a dream.

Always the same one.


	7. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the amazing @musain-de-revolution on tumblr, "I love your smile" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

“I love your smile.”

Joker looked up from the newspaper he was reading, and fixed his gaze on his more or less unwilling partner, also known as Batman. Or Bruce Wayne. But he was rather touchy on the subject of his secret identity so hush.

Team-ups between the two of them often wielded strange results. This time was no exception.

“You're high,” stated Joker, flatly, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. And it was true. Both of them had taken quite the beating earlier today, but it seemed Bats had something of an issue with holding his drugs. Then again, not everyone got to stay as often as the clown at Arkham, so perhaps he could be forgiven for that shortcoming. The criminal certainly didn't mind this talkative version of the usually scowling and abrasive vigilante.

“That doesn't mean I’m wrong,” protested the very much out of it billionaire. “You should smile more.”

At this, the clown couldn't help but laugh. “Of course not, darling, heaven forbid for you to ever be anything but right.”

“But will you smile?” insistently asked Wayne, as if it were of great importance.

“I'm always smiling.”

“Not that smile.”

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment, before–

“Of course, Brucie. I'll always smile for you.”


	8. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "Don't be afraid" (within the Telltale Batman universe) from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

“Oh, hello Bruce,” greeted John, elation clear as day in his expression.

The billionaire smiled slightly, nodding at him in acknowledgement. For all it's worth, he did like the guy, despite his sometimes questionable choices. Such as joining the Ridller’s gang.

Not that Wayne hadn't done the same. As if hearing his thoughts, the pale man said, “Don't be afraid.”

Bruce blinked. “I'm not.” And he wasn't. At least he didn't feel scared. More than usual, that is. John gave him a knowing look, a slight smile on his face.

The undercover vigilante was fairly certain he didn't even realise he was doing it.

“You're not going to end up like us, you know. You won't stop being _you_ , no matter what you do.”

“Like ‘you’?” questioned Wayne, raising an eyebrow.

Doe rubbed his neck nervously, _a tick of his_ , had noted Bruce, before clarifying.

“Like Freeze, or Bane, or… Harley.” Here, John paused for a second before continuing quietly, “Or like me.”

Bruce felt his heart clench, an emotion he couldn't identify overtaking him. “I wouldn't say that you're horrible, John. I would've been avoiding you a lot harder, if I didn't enjoy your company.”

At which moment the man laughed, and Wayne couldn't tell if it was relieved or hysterical. He wondered if he'd ever come to fully understand John Doe.

He really wanted to.

“You're too sweet, Brucie. You're too sweet.”

Wayne tilted his head slightly.

“I'm just being truthful.”

And suddenly, he found himself with an armful of John Doe, who was clutching at him, as if he were his only anchor to reality. And maybe he was.

Bruce hugged him back.

• Your relationship with John has changed.


	9. Third time's the charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "You mean too much to me"/"I care about you"/"There's nothing wrong with you" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

“I don't see where's the fire,” whined the brightly dressed man, as he was yanked and pushed into a car by Gotham's most eligible part-time criminal.

John crossed his arms, huffing, as Bruce sat in the driver's seat next to him, shutting the door with more force than probably necessarily. The billionaire knew that they should get going before someone caught them, but he wasn't sure that driving was such a great idea for him to attempt in his state, and he definitely wasn't about to let the man next to him do so.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, with John still pouting like a petulant child.

“So. Were you actually trying to get yourself killed?” asked the undercover vigilante, growl barely concealed under a tone of fake calmness.

“I don't really think you want me to answer that one.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at that, still practically vibrating with a combination of anger and worry. “Why is that?”

John shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable. “Well, in one case, I tell you the truth and you get even more wired up, and in the other, I lie to you only to achieve the same result. Seems pretty prudent not to answer the question with those odds.”

“So you do want to die?” questioned Wayne. He stared at John, noticing the slight grimace that flickered across his face for a second.

“Not really. It's more like… I don't care what happens. And it's not like it would be much of a loss if I do die, would it? Nobody would care if I disappear.” he finished with an awkward chuckle.

They stood in silence for well over a minute before–

“I'd miss you,” stated Bruce, surprising even himself. Not that it wasn't true but… feelings weren't something he was too fond from sharing. It was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

The green haired man tilted his head questioningly, “Why?”

And Wayne… he should've lied, he knew that, but instead he gave in. He wished John would stop being so  _ John _ . “Because,” he started, cutting himself off, before continuing, “you mean too much to me.”

The man twitched, clearly surprised by the declaration. And that's the moment when Bruce realised that this probably  _ wasn't  _ something John had ever heard before, and he could feel his heart breaking just a little bit more.

“I do care about you, you know. I want you to be alright.”

And then John looked at him, eyes wide and innocent in a way he couldn't define, asking him “Why would you care? I'm nothing but trouble. A frea–”

“You’re not. Nothing is wrong with you,” Bruce cut him off, at which John just scoffed, turning his head away.

Instead of doing what he should have, and letting the situation go, Bruce moved himself closer to the other, gently gripping his shoulders and turning him so that they were once more face to face. They were pressed so close to each other, the billionaire could feel every little, nervous twitch the other made.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he repeated, gazing straight in John's eyes, willing him to  _ understand _ .

And then, somehow, he found himself with John's soft lips pressed against his, and suddenly, the present was all that mattered.


	10. Do you want to hear a joke?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "Who hurt you" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

The Joker had blown up a building, Batman couldn't take a joke, and now they were fighting, as per usual. That is, until the Bat decided to change the steps of their dance, much to the clown’s annoyance.

“What is that from?” demanded the vigilante. He had the criminal pressed against the wall, unmovable as a stubborn mule. This was the first time Joker could remember being sad about his Batsy being in such a close proximity to him. He hadn't blown that hotel up so his other half would stop their date barely five minutes in, and with no chance of continuation too. Tactless, that's what he was.

“Do you have any idea how rude this is?” said the clown instead, face still squashed into the hard surface. “This is no way to treat a lady, young man!”

Instead of replying, the vigilante just growled,  _ 'you should really get a better grip on the English language, Bats’  _ thought the jester, letting out an annoyed sigh.

“What is what?” he finally asked, sarcasm almost literally dripping from his voice. “You're going to have to be a bit more specific, darling.”

No reply. Of course. After all, this was Batman, why would he communicate like a normal person. Not that either of them was normal, but still. There were  _ some  _ lines.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, if one well spent with him restrained in such manner–

“Who hurt you?” was the gritted out question.

The Joker snorted, and before soon he was full out laughing, the only thing keeping him up being the vigilante. “Oh, you're going to  _ kill _ me. I was locked up in Arkham the entire time! Who do  _ you  _ think, tell me, I'm genuinely curious.”

Batman's grip on him tightened momentarily. “You're incapable of genuineness.”

The clown frowned exaggeratedly. “Ouch. That's harsh.” Then he let out another giggle. “I assure you, my darling Knight, I'm nothing but honest with you. After all, one cannot build a relationship on lies.”

He smirked as he felt the pressure increase. He did love angering his other half, his reactions were most  _ entertaining _ . “Relax, sweetheart, my favourite scars will always be those left by you.”

“You’re disgusting,” was the reply, tone neutral.

The Joker hummed, smiling even wider. “Do you want to hear a joke? A man that dressed as a bat asked a clown a question, expecting a straight answer. Guess what happened.” Not waiting for a response, he continued, “Nothing, because neither of them was straight when it came to each other!”


	11. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "This isn't goodbye" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

_ “You'll never get rid of me.” _

 

Bruce was standing on top of a rooftop, Joker lying on his stomach next to him, both watching the sunrise. It was a. Unique moment. But there was something so mesmerising about watching the darkness give way to the light, neither wanted to ruin it.

 

_ “You don't know that.” _

 

And wasn't that funny. The man who believed that, in the end, everything will be alright, saying  _ that _ to the one who thought that  _ nothing _ was certain. There was something so utterly bizarre about it. But again, their entire relationship was.

 

_ “I do.” _

 

It was like a puzzle. The pieces of which come from entirely different sets, but fit seamlessly together all the same. He thought they must have lost parts of themselves because of the other.  _ To  _ the other.

He sometimes wondered if it even mattered.

He stood silent, observing the city he guarded, the monster seeking its destruction right next to him.

 

_ “Let's go.” _

 

And the creature smiled at him, and he felt his heart melt. It hurt so much.

Sometimes he wished they were normal.

 

_ “This isn't goodbye.” _

 

That's what the Joker had said. That there never will be a goodbye.

Now, cradling the Joker's limp body, Bruce realised he should have wished for them to last forever.


	12. If

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "Kiss me" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

Bruce, for someone who lived by the words ‘whatever can go wrong,  _ will _ go wrong’, was frankly doing a terrible job at minimising the possible damage. For there he was, his senses buzzing from intoxication, while undercover in a criminal organisation. He wished he could justify it, but the excuse “John asked me if I'd like a drink” didn't sound like something that would hold in court.

 

They were currently sprawled on the floor of the Ha-Hacienda, with John giggling at nothing at all, though Bruce couldn't figure out just how drunk he was, or even  _ if _ . The billionaire hadn't payed much attention to the other's alcohol consumption. Or his own.

 

Bruce stared dazedly at the man.

He hoped things wouldn't go sour between them, when this was over with.

And wasn't hope such a dangerous thing. Possessing the power to both make and destroy you.

 

“Kiss me.” The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, and he could feel the sudden shock of adrenaline trying to fight its way through his languid limbs.

 

The laughter died out, and the two men were engulfed in complete silence. Bruce had to suppress the urge to backtrack apologetically. Though he probably shouldn't have.

Another beat passed, before John gave him a smile, the meaning of which the unwilling-criminal couldn't decipher.

“You're drunk.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, before retorting “Not to the point of not knowing what I'm saying.”

 

Bruce needed to stop ruining his own chances.

 

John moved closer to him, licking his lips nervously. “Are you sure? I mean, I don't want you to regret this later, and I know you don't really like me that wa–”

The rest was cut off, Bruce having suddenly pressed their mouths together, slowly moving his lips against John's. And as he felt the other practically melt into the kiss, he thought that there might be some truth in what people say about love.

It makes fools of us all.


	13. Missing you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "Don't lie to me" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

“You don't seem up to your usual level, Joker,” noted the vigilante, staring down at his nemesis, who laid sprawled on the ground. “Having some troubles?”

The clown in question propelled himself into a sitting position, using his elbows. He looked up at Gotham's Knight, grin firmly in place.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Bats. I'm right as rain,” he said, with this annoying high-pitched voice he sometimes used. “Why are you asking anyway? Worried about me, maybe-” he finished, waggling his eyebrows as if the subject discussed was one of very different nature.

Choosing to focus on the actual conversation, instead of the Joker's subtle  _ damning _ insinuations, Bruce retorted, “Don't lie to me.”

Unsurprisingly, the clown decided not to cooperate with him, with voice exaggeratedly outraged and disbelieving, exclaimed “Oh, but I would  _ never _ ! How can you even suggest that  _ I _ , of all people, would do such a thing.”

The billionaire sighed, more exasperated than angry. He wondered if the Joker and he were playing different 'games’, or if they just didn't see its  _ guidelines _ the same way.

He didn't reply, staying silent, observing the man before him.

 

He missed John. 

 

He could sometimes see him hidden beneath all that anger this facade claimed he didn't possess.

The Joker laughed, and all Bruce could think about was how could he miss someone he had barely even known so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I low-key tried imitating the style of the earlier Batman comics I have read, no idea how it worked out.
> 
> Basically, this is set in the telltale universe, several years after John Doe becomes Joker.  
> Yes, I absolutely had to not give a warning.


	14. Hate is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by an anon on tumblr, "Do you hate me" from a prompt list by @hellsdemonictrinity.

Bruce was tired.

So, so tired of the constant chase-and-catch game Joker and he were ‘playing’, as the clown insisted to call this farce they were caught in. He didn't even know  _ why  _ they were doing it. Either of them. It was funny, almost. Almost, because there were far too many 'side characters’ dying and disappearing for it  _ to  _ be.

He wondered if he'd get an answer, if he asked. And before he realised, the words were already leaving his mouth, voice betraying emotion unnamed, addressing the curiously silent passenger, who sat cuffed, in the back of the car.

“Do you hate me,” he asked, not knowing why he phrased it like that. So personal. Too personal. And yet, he needed to know, because he couldn't tell what it was that made them. Was it Love, or Hate, Both or Neither? Did it even matter?

The criminal, in response, simply smiled, a strange, serene smile.

“Yes.”


End file.
